Choking Anger
by Nidhoegg
Summary: Request story for Lia Walker. After a tiring hunt Dean and John get into an argument. For the teen the situation gets worse, and John will have to save his son from an unexpected enemy. Teen-chesters, One-Shot


**A/N: **This was a request from Lia Walker. It was in parts difficult to write, mostly because usually I write for The Mentalist, but it was also a lot of fun and I really hope you, Lia, and everybody else like it. Please, tell me what you think, yah?

**Warning: **Quite a bit of cussing, but you know the boys...

**Disclaimer: **No money made.

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An incessant ringing broke through his reverie like a sledgehammer.

A tired groan escaped his lips, expressing just what exactly he thought about getting up after only two hours of sleep.

The door to their only bathroom slammed closed, followed by a bellowed _Boys!_ by their dad. Dean sighed, burrowing deep into his blanket. So, Sam got the first dips on the shower. Congratulations. He so didn't care.

They had come back late last night. As usual a hunt had taken a bit longer than expected. For a moment the 17-year old seriously wondered just what his dad had thought would happen. Because, he sure as hell hadn't believed one second that the freak of the week would patiently wait to be toasted.

So, what had gotten into his dad, spinning a story about some easy catch? They had been forced to traipse after the shape shifter for three godforsaken hours!

And knew what? When they finally gotten back to their latest dog shed, called motel, daddy dearest had announced to the great joy of everyone present that there was already a new hunt lined up for the next day. Fuglies obviously didn't go on vacation, though it sure might help with a bit of their aggression problems.

Sure enough, little Sasquatch - sometimes also known as thirteen year old Sam Winchester - had also had to prove how well he could handle frustration, adding another one and a half hours to their sleep deprivation. It bordered on a miracle that their yelling hadn't woken up everyone in this godforsaken town.

To say Dean felt irritated didn't even cut it close. But, still, perhaps he should see his current mood as a good sign. It had improved from the totally pissed-off anger he had gone to bed with two hours prior.

"Dean!"

Oh, just fucking great! Dad. Exactly what a guy needed to have a happy start in the morning.

"Get up, boy! We're leaving before dawn."

It wasn't dawn yet?! Awesome.... Hadn't he set the alarm for some time later?

"I'm not telling you again."

He heaved a sigh and felt his irritation rise up a notch again. Looked like getting up wasn't up for debate.

Of course, the teen knew that they were doing an important job. They were saving lives.

But why in god's name couldn't they start saving these lives at a more humane time?!

Still, Dean knew this kind of tone which didn't bode well for anyone thinking about arguing the high master's decision.

So, begrudgingly and more asleep than awake, the middle Winchester crept slowly out of his oh-so-comfortable motel bed and trudged into the bathroom. On the way, he shortly wondered when Sammy had managed to sneak out of said room without him noticing, but he quickly replaced the thought with more pressing issues.

Shower, coffee, breakfast. In this order.

He actually managed the first one undisturbed, feeling much better after stepping out of the by now cold spray.

Unfortunately though, someone higher up in the universal hierarchy seemed to have it in for him today.

Dean walked into the living room/kitchen/bedroom and made a beeline for the pot of dark brown life essence.

"Morning, Dean", Sammy muttered without looking up from his book about god-only-knew-what.

The youngest of the Winchester clan was already fed and sated, ready to face down the typical morning argument with their old man. Until the perfect moment for attack arrived, he had contented himself with reading.

His older brother meanwhile only offered some unintelligible sound as greeting, but Sam didn't think too much about it. It was some kind of general big-brother rule: No coffee - no speech. Sad, he thought, seeing as Dean was only seventeen and already addicted.

Said dark blonde teen though didn't think about the deeper meaning of one of men's essential needs. He reached for the coffee pot and a mostly clean cup.

His thoughts were miles away, caught up in last night's hunt. And, to be completely honest at least with himself, his mind was set on his latest screw-up.

Dean had known they were hunting a shape-shifter. Had known that these things could, well, shape-shift. None of that knowledge though had prepared him to face a small frightened girl, younger even than Sammy.

How could he pull the trigger looking into big deer-like brown eyes? How was he supposed to blast a bullet into a body that only reached up to his hip-bone?

It had been a child, goddammit!

Of course, his dad had seen it a bit differently. To him it was only a monster. A killer to be killed itself.

Dean had seen the disappointment in his dad's eyes. Felt the harsh chastise like a stab. But he had taken all the disapproval, all the I-thought-I-taught-you-better-than-that's. He had earned it after all. Hesitation could very well cost you your life, or worse it could cost someone else's.

Still...

"Boys, we're leaving. Get your stuff and meet me outside."

The teen looked up.

"What about breakfast?", he asked, resentment against his own stupid mistake and a bone deep tiredness tingeing his tone just a bit too feisty.

Both, dad's and Sam's gazes snapped to meet his own. Sammy with surprise written in his hazel depths, John with anger.

"You had enough time to eat", the older hunter's voice was blunt, restraining his initial itch to start another argument, only with his other son this time. Indeed, he was just as tired and tense from the night prior as Dean.

The latter knew it was useless to argue. He knew it was insane. And totally against his nature.

But they had all been under immense strain lately. Feeling like a coiled rattle snake, ready to strike at a fly passing by.

So, maybe, this granted an excuse for his next words. Maybe this made it all understandable. Acceptable.

Because he sure as hell couldn't understand what possessed him to snarl at his father, his secret hero and role model.

"Oh yea?! Maybe if you hadn't dragged us through this fucked-up forest in the middle of night. Enough time to eat, my ass!"

Shock silenced the room for a moment. Dumbfounded eyes boring into the teen. But the calm only lasted so long, before the storm called John Winchester broke loose.

"You don't use that tone on me, boy!"

"I can do whatever I want!"

Fuck, Dean felt as if he had somehow stepped out of his body and was now watching as someone looking exactly like himself was begging for a slow painful death.

"Dean Winchester! You get rid of that attitude right now! Or-"

"Or what?! You leave? You hit me? What?! I just want my fucking breakfast!"

His father looked ready to strangle him by now. And really, the teen couldn't exactly blame him.

It almost felt surreal, standing toe to toe with their dad. Usually, Dean was their peacekeeper, their referee. In fact, by now he would have been able to lead some fancy aggression seminars for overpaid managers.

But not this time. This time fate had crossed that invisible border. They all had had a shitty night and the days before hadn't been that peachy either. He was thoroughly sleep-deprived and running low on caffeine. Add to that the fact of raging hormones and an empty stomach and you got an angry-Dean-special.

John was staring at his oldest in equal shock and fury. It wasn't like the boy to talk back, to argue. He was tempted to utter _Christo_ for a second.

He didn't though. Instead he gathered every ounce of self-restraint and took a step back.

"Five minutes, then you're sitting in the car. And", the hunter added with a glare only a marine could produce in this intensity, "I can be very creative. Understood?"

His eldest answered his stare with one of his own, not a bit behind in its fierceness.

"Yes, Sir", he drawled, anger still coloring his tone.

John huffed. Seething internally, but not about to start a real fight now. There was a hunt waiting. Punishment would have to be dealt out later.

The tall hunter finally turned on his heels and marched out the door.

Left standing in the motel room, Dean exhaled slowly, wanting to smack himself for this mess.

"Wow", an impressed voice startled him out of his mulling anger.

Sam was staring at him in wide-eyed wonder.

The older brother sighed, knowing that this scene hadn't been good role-model behaviour.

"Don't", he uttered. Embarrassed with himself.

"But", Sam started.

Dean though silenced him with a pained glance.

Once more he sighed and took a sip of his coffee, the liquid tasting stale and mocking on his tongue.

Sam was still watching him with awe, only adding to the stabbing he felt in his chest. He was the older son, he was supposed to support their dad, not add to the tension.

He suppressed another sigh and turned away from his brother's hazel orbs boring into him. Almost on autopilot his hand reached for a slice of bread. Now that he had fought so stubbornly for breakfast he could as well eat it.

Although, Dean sure felt as though every bite would have to get stuck in his tightened throat.

He didn't add any jam or butter to his bread, in fact, by now he didn't feel any appetite left.

A quick sideways glance revealed Sam shaking his head and still looking intently at him and Dean was tempted to snap at him, too, to stop staring.

He didn't though and instead took a bite from his bread. It tasted like nothing, making swallowing even harder.

The first bite was forced down with effort.

Hard pressed to just lay down his breakfast and go, the teen stayed put, taking another bite.

Unfortunately, Sam chose this moment to get up from his chair, his longish arms accidentally hitting his book of the table. In a try to catch it, he knocked over the chair which hit the floor in a loud thumb.

The sudden noise startled the older Winchester who shot around thinking something might have happened to his brother.

His bread slice landed also on the floor, but the bite he had just taken found another way; right into his air pipe where it got stuck.

Dean gasped, bending over.

He couldn't breathe all of a sudden. His body's reaction was a meagre try at coughing, but it only served to make it worse.

Sam had quickly looked up at the strange noise coming from his brother. Blanching as he realized what was going on, he felt torn between running to Dean's side and rushing out to get dad.

His indecision cost them all valuable seconds, but finally the youngest family member broke out of his rigor.

He ran over to where his brother was now kneeling on the floor, desperately trying to get the offending piece out of his throat.

While dropping to the floor next to his sibling, Sam hollered for his dad, emergency written clearly in his tone.

"Dean?", he whispered, unsure what to do. "Dean!"

"What-?!"

Sam looked up. Their dad stood on the other side of the small table, gun drawn, eyes wide, shock written in them.

The moment seemed to stretch, a second lasting an eternity.

Then it was over and John rushed around the shabby wooden table, dropping to his knees at his son's side.

"What happened?", he demanded focusing on Dean.

"I-I don't know", his youngest almost squeaked.

But the older hunter already had a fairly good idea what was wrong.

How had a simple disagreement ended like this?!

Oh, what would Mary think of him...?

Yet, John knew they didn't have much time. In his years as a soldier and later as a hunter he had learned classic first aid measures as well as more creative ones.

So, now he knew what to do and that it needed to be done quickly as Dean was quickly losing the fight against unconsciousness.

John grabbed his eldest from behind, prepared to do a full "five-and-five" maneuver. The thumps between the teen's shoulder blades didn't help, so the hunter, who had taken over the scared father's place, administered the Heimlich maneuver.

"Dad! You hurt him!", Sam cried, but his father knew what he was doing.

He prayed silently to anyone listening and for once someone seemed to take pity.

After what felt like ages of tense fear and concern, Dean managed to cough forcefully, dislodging the piece of bread and clearing his airways.

John continued holding his son who coughed violently, sucking in gulps of breath in between.

Sammy crawled closer and after a second's hesitation threw his arms around both his father and brother.

They stayed like this for quite a while, just holding onto each other. It had been a very long time since they had last hugged and they all enjoyed the rare show of emotion, though they would never admit it.

Finally Dean's breathing eased up again, but he stayed put, exhausted beyond belief.

Meanwhile John had been thinking. And thinking hard.

This episode had scared him shitless. He couldn't lose his sons. And it hadn't been a ghost this time, no demon or other creature.

In a way it had been him, forcing his boys to rush from one hunt to the next, never granting them a bit free reign.

Light was streaming through the milky windows, tinged pink by the rising sun. Dawn was breaking and John almost wanted to laugh.

Hadn't it been him who had wanted to hit the road before dawn? Hadn't that been the reason he had fought with Dean over something as ridiculous as breakfast?

"Boys?", he asked quietly after a while.

Sammy met his gaze, unshed tears sparkling in the hazel depths, while his older brother only nodded slightly against their father's chest.

"What do you say; we pack up here and then look for a nice diner for real breakfast?"

Dean raised his head a bit so he could see his dad's eyes, too, before giving a soft smile.

The older hunter smiled back, knowing that he would have to call Bobby or Caleb to take over the hunt. But in all honesty, right there and then, he didn't care.

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**A/N 2: **A short explanation: The right first-aid reaction for choking is really called "Five and Five". It consists of five thumps on the back of the choking person's back and five abdominal thrusts (= Heimlich maneuver). There are lots of really good first aid sites online and in my opinion everyone should attend a first aid course once and again. You never know when you might need it.


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